Carousel Of Love
by WolfHuntressOfTheNight
Summary: Vanessa was trapped in her own home, used as a safe haven, but also a prison, keeping her inside it's walls. The only thing that set her free: a shiny laptop, and an online website, where she meets a boy, who's more than he seems. Suddenly, Vanessa has boarded the Carousel Of Love, where you're spinning, spinning, spinning...and there's no getting off. But who would want to?
1. Hopeless Dreaming

_**Disclaimer: I don't own TMNT! or any brand, website, or Broadway musical (I'm a total musical theater-hound) I mention, I do not own! The only thing I own is my own OC's! Thank you for understanding!**_

 ***IMPORTANT! MUST READ!***

 **So, this is what happens in my alternate version of TMNT. I didn't like some of the decisions the story writing team made (though I adore some of their others), so I made some of my own:**

 **-It was only a month, maybe less, that they were at the farm house**

 **-They defeated the Triceratons in** _ **Annihilation: Earth!**_ **, and never went to space.**

 **-April found the Aeon Crystal after it had landed from a meteorite near her dad's apartment building. Basically everything that happened with the crystal happened, except without traveling the universe.**

 **-Shredder died from a heart attack, not from Leo cutting off his head. I understand it's meant to be epic, but I don't think Leo would kill anybody, not even Shredder.**

 **-Baxter Stockman was unmutated, because in a weird way, I feel bad for him. He deserves peace and quiet finally.**

 **-Karai introduced them to Shinigami later on, and Mikey never fell in love with her, though she was in love with Mikey.**

 **-Raph never met Mona Lisa. I'm sorry, I kinda feel her character was rushed by the development team, and they could've expanded her personality a lot more than they did. Of course, I could do exactly that in this, but no, I'm weird.**

 **-Karai and Casey fell in love. Because. It's cute.**

 **-New York City is still infested with mutants, though most are in hiding, so the city doesn't know about them, but the government is still searching everywhere they can.**

 **That's all you guys need to know. I hope you all enjoy 'Carousel Of Love.'**

 **May 18**

 **Chapter 1**

 **Hopeless Dreaming**

 **Vanessa's POV**

 _I breathed in through my nose, the scent of caramel apples and popcorn lingering in the carnival night air. A breeze blew through the large, grassy field, making my hair dance. I could hear cheers coming from the distance, where some kind of performer was gracefully contorting on a stage. Squeezing my toes against my flip flops, I looked around at all of the different sights and sounds. The moon looked so large and so beautiful in the night sky, a perfect, round, white dish of milky light. Stars gleamed around it, little shining dots, that could carry galaxies, and we humans would never know. A ferris wheel spun in the distance, and a spinning teacup ride whipped its passengers around in circles, cries of glee echoing from both of the rides._

 _When I turned around, I saw a carousel behind me. The merry-go-round of spinning light caught my attention. There was a young boy, a teenager, around my age, standing near the entrance. Without even introducing ourselves, we joined hands, warm skin touching each other beneath a moonlit sky. His smile made the ground tremble underneath my feet, as our paths colliding for the first time in a bright carnival of whirling sound and light. He took me over to one of the pastel pink ponies_ (because alliterations rocks, my dear readers) _, and the two of us climbed onboard. As soon as the ride started, I felt myself spinning, losing all feeling in my limbs. I was falling, falling in love, falling for a stranger I'd never met, but had known all of my life…_

I awoke with a start, my dream ending as quickly as it had started. My phone, mostly dead, lay at my side, my earbuds twisted and tangled around my body. I checked my phone. Yeah, I fell asleep listening to the OBC recording of Rodgers and Hammerstein's 'Carousel' again. The opening number: The 'Carousel Waltz'.

Snatching a charger from my bedside table, I plugged in the cell phone, and climbed out of bed. I tried to straighten out the frumpled t-shirt shirt I was wearing, but to no avail. It stayed wrinkled. I frowned a bit at the tiny inadequacy.

 _It's not like you have to worry about anybody seeing you though. Everyone else is already gone, to work, school, or wherever they spend their days,_ I thought, grabbing a brush from beside the canopied bed. My room is the sort of room every fifteen-year-old girl wishes they can have. Well, I'm not fifteen yet. But I will be soon.

A glossy, baby blue canopy hung over my bed, like a long veil. My closet door was painted the same color, along with my bedspread, and my walls. Right above my bed, where my head was just a few moments before, my name was spelled out in pretty, pristine, white letters; Vanessa. A white shag carpet underneath my feet, I stepped over several books splayed across my floor. Posters hung on my walls, with frames around them, and a sheet of glass to protect them. Bookshelves lined the bottom part of one wall. I have a lot of time to spend reading, of course. We'll get to that later.

A swing chair hung creating a little bird's nest in the left corner of my room. Little blue and white fairy lights encircled the top of my ceiling, giving off a little light in the room. Shells, sea glass, and all other kinds of ornaments hung from my ceiling, braided into small, handmade dreamcatchers I had made myself, with little feathers my mom and sister found for me from real life birds. I always looked up online what kind of feathers they were. I wanted to know what sort of winged creatures were protecting my dreams. Over my desk, an ebony-colored lamp shone down on all of my work, and a shiny silver laptop that I had gotten for Christmas three or four years before. Neat, blue and white painted shelves were on either side of the desk, containing art supplies, clothes, ointments, medicine...we're getting off track here.

Wincing, I felt myself step on something hard and pointy. I looked down to see a missing screw from one of my tap shoes. I placed it on the desk. I would have to ask mom to help me fix that later.

 _Of course, you could do that on your own. You're alone all day, might as well make some use of it._

Unlike most teens, I don't go to school. At least, not like other kids do. My mother, Maria Sanbelle, is an English college professor, and when she gets home from teaching her students, she basically teaches me everything she knows. My older sister, Katherine, is in training to become a nurse, which I guess is pretty cool. It means she gets to save lives, which I personally think is astonishing. She's in college now, her nineteenth birthday last winter.

I opened up the bedroom door almost cautiously. My alarm clock had said it was just past eight o'clock. I honestly don't know why I even have an alarm clock, because I never set it. I guess it just makes me feel a little bit more normal. Eight is the time I get up everyday though, so I don't really need an alarm clock.

All the curtains downstairs were closed, like normal. Mom always makes sure to close them before she leaves. Maybe she thinks I'll forget or something.

How can I forget?

Having a sickness like mine isn't something very easily forgotten.

Let me explain.

I was diagnosed with Xeroderma Pigmentosum when I was an infant. My mother had taken me to the beach with my older sister. While she had run around, kicking up sand, and diving into the water with her floaties on, little baby Vanessa had sat crying for nearly an hour. When we had gotten back home, Mom noticed several dozen little freckles all over my body. Like, everywhere. I had also gotten a severe rash, even though Mom had put gallons of sunscreen on me. Later on that week, a similar occurrence happened at the fourth of July parade, except even more freckles appeared, and according to Mom, something strange was going on with my eyes. She had taken me to the doctor after that, and he was the one who told me about my sickness.

I had a disease called Xeroderma Pigmentosum, which can be shortened to XP. Never heard of it? Most haven't. XP is extremely rare. It's basically a sickness where you're allergic to sunlight. You can never take a step outside on a hot sunny day, because why? Several reasons; skin cancer, neurodegeneration, permanent deafness and blindness. Certain lighting can harm anybody who has it as well. LED lights are okay, but unfiltered means unsafe.

But hey, there are a few perks. I don't have to go to school. Most people who have it can go to school, but my case is apparently special. Hooray.

Also, we get to stay out all night if we want. My sister and I have a private joke, calling me nocturnal. I can only go outside when the shadows are around, so it's very fitting.

I like to think of myself as the Queen Of The Night. The darkness is my playground, my kingdom, my world.

My life.

I took tired steps down the stairs, yawning, and running my fingers through my hair. A small bowl of food sat at the entrance of the kitchen, and a Bengal-Abyssinian cat, who bore the named Angela, sat eating from it. Me and Kath got her a few years ago, on Kath's birthday. Angela, when seeing me, meowled and ran forwards, grabbing onto the hem of my sweatpants. Her claws dug into the top of my foot, and I moaned, taking her paws off of my feet. Angela rubbed against my leg, brushing some of her striped brown and tan fur onto me, and she looked at me with unrealistically green eyes, eyes that only animals such as cats can ever carry.

My bare feet hit the cold kitchen tiles, and I immediately wished I had put some slippers on. Instead though, I kept going on my journey to the fridge. My morningly scavenge for breakfast hadn't gone as well the morning before; I had eaten leftover Chinese take-out, which had clumped together in the fridge overnight into a ball of rice, noodles, and vegetables. It was good after two minutes in the microwave though.

Scratching the back of my neck, I reached into the fridge and took out the almond cake that me and Kath had made Mom for her birthday about a week before. _She won't mind_ , I told myself, and cut a slice of the rich cake, the cold chocolate frosting smearing all over the plate. Angela swiped once again at my pant leg, which I pulled away, taking my plate upstairs to my room, where I sat down at my computer.

Okay, so I'm just gonna admit it; when you live inside all day, you get pretty lonely. So, I went to the only place I was accepted as an anonymous and unknown companion. I logged onto the typical website, where a chatroom was waiting for me. Whereas some chatrooms on the site had as many as hundreds of people inside of them, the one I had joined a few months before had a solitary seven friends inside of it including me. Two of them were already on having a conversation. Something about their dog.

I understand the next point you're going to make-be careful who you meet on the internet. But, for some reason, I honestly felt like I trusted them...one of them in particular.

I logged into the Chat Room, my nickname popping up as my internet-lingo-code-name: Grizabella1812.

 **UltraMegaCoolDude: So, are you guys psyched for the new 'Space Heroes' movie coming out?**

 **Grizabella1812: Not really. I don't like sci-fi that much. You?**

 **YurMom555: Ugh. No thank you.**

 **UltraMegaCoolDude: Why not?**

 **YurMom555: I dunno. It's super old, and super boring.**

 **CalHob14: I've never really been into that show. My brother can't wait though.**

 **LovegoodXOXO: So, Cal, how are things going with that super secret project you keep signing off to go work on?**

 **CalHob14: Not too good.**

 **CalHob14: It's taking a long time.**

 **YurMom555: Honestly, at this point Cal, I'm starting to think you just really don't want to spend time with us.**

 **Grizabella1812: Hey, Yuri, that's not nice.**

Yuri is always doing things like that. Yes, we call her Yuri, because, you know, YurMom. Cal gave them to us along time ago, when we all first met.

 **CalHob14: Thank you, Bella.**

 **Grizabella1812: Anytime.**

 **K0K0CL0CK: Can you guys please stop texting me right now? I'm sorta busy.**

Of course, most of them would be in school. None of us have ever revealed our ages, of course, but we all kinda imagine each other as other teenagers. At least, I do. I have no clue what the others think I look like. I'm sure they don't imagine me as a young girl forced to spend all day inside.

 **YurMom555: Love, what do you think of the idea of a live action 'Space Heroes' movie?**

 **LovegoodXOXO: It sounds alright. I'm going to see it in a few days with friends.**

 **TheMothOfMarch: It sounds pretty cool.**

 **YurMom555: UGH, I dunno why I'm in this chatroom (JK y'all).**

 **UltraMegaCoolDude: Okay then, Yuri, we can have our own opinions too ya know. You're not the boss of me.**

 **CalHob14: Technically, she is your mom though.**

I found myself giggling at Cal's joke. Even though I've never met him, he still always finds a way to make me laugh.

 **Grizabella1812: Nice one.**

 **CalHob14: Thanks. Again.**

 **LovegoodXOXO: Anyways, I gotta go too. See you later!**

 _LovegoodXOXO has signed off the Chat Room._

 **UltraMegaCoolDude: Gotta go, too.**

 _UltraMegaCoolDude has signed off the Chat Room._

Eventually, one by one, my only friends start to leave the Chat Room, leaving me feeling a little empty.

All except for one.

 **CalHob14: Private Chat Room?**

 **Grizabella1812: Definitely.**

I giddily left that particular Chat Room, letting myself be taken to the neon green and white home screen. I saw a loading sign on the side of me and Cal's private Chat Room. We've never told the other five about the Chat Room, mostly because we didn't want them to feel left out…

...but I also sometimes wanted to talk to Cal on my own. I felt like...he understood me, or something like that. Yes, I know, this is the internet we're talking about, and he could be some middle aged man just waiting to strike, like a viper. But Cal didn't seem like that. He never tried to get me to give up my real name, or address, never being any sort of manipulative. As soon as his was done loading, I clicked onto the tab, grinning as Cal's profile picture appeared; a rosy and golden spiral of a sunset, something I never got to see, except in cheesy movies. But those aren't real. For some reason though, Cal's does.

 **CalHobs14: How's life?**

 **Grizabella1812: It's pretty good.**

 **CalHob14: I'm sorry if I'm distracting you from school or anything.**

So he does think I'm in school too. Does that mean he's a stalker? Or does it mean he's just a teenage boy, innocent, and kind, not pretending to be anything?

 **Grizabella1812: It's okay. I don't go to school.**

There. Just in case he _is_ a strange old man, he'll think I'm an adult.

 **CalHob14: Oh.**

 **CalHob14: Me neither.**

Oh. Well. That backfired.

 **Grizabella1812: So, how's** _ **your**_ **life?**

 **CalHob14: Same old same old.**

 **Grizabella1812: Have you finished your latest drawing?**

 **CalHob14: Not yet. It's coming along though. I'm thinking about having a basqued waist, though maybe an Empire waistline would be more appropriate, though that depends on how short I want to make the dress. What do you think?**

Although Cal would never say it in real life, according to him, he's _deeply_ into fashion. He watches all of the fashion shows on tv, when he can get a chance, and he loves sketching designs for outfits. It's really all the pictures he posts on his profile. No selfies, no pictures of anybody else. Just designs. And I've got to say, they're some of the most incredible things I've ever seen.

 **Grizabella1812: Do whatever feels right to you.**

 **CalHob14: Basqued waist then. Long dress. All the way.**

Hesitation before his next message. For some reason, in my head, I could see him scribbling away at his page of paper, writing down notes, or maybe even adding the waistline to his drawing.

 **CalHob14: Thanks.**

 **CalHob14: How's your sister's medical training going?**

Yes, I told Cal I had a sister. I also told him she was going to be a doctor. I'm not sure why I trusted him with the information. It felt right.

He felt right.

 **Grizabella1812: I don't really know. She doesn't tell me too much about the classes. All she really tells me are funny stories from when she's in between classes.**

 **Grizabella1812: Though I heard her say she did well on a test the other day.**

 **CalHob14: Tell her I said congratulations.**

I didn't tell Cal I've never told my family about him. Mom knew I had some friends online, but she didn't know the extent of it; talking to them every day, sharing bits of my life with them, like my sister's wanting to be a doctor. And on a rare occasion, Cal would share something with me as well. For instance, he has three brothers and a sister. He also once (though on accident) revealed he lived in New York City, a place I'd desperately wanted to go all my life. It means he's right near the Great White Way, able to see Broadway theaters from his own hometown. That on it's own would be an honor. He also told me his ideal dream would be to design costumes for Broadway. He's shown me a few sketches in the private Chat Room, of what he thinks the costumes in revivals of certain shows should look like. And I'm going to have to say; they were some of the most gorgeous things I've ever seen.

 **CalHob14: So what do you think of the idea to cast Clara Wilcox as Grizabella, Grizabella?**

 **Grizabella1812: I thinks she'd be a wonderful Griz, thank you very much.**

 **Grizabella1812: I can't judge my own kind too harshly can I.**

 **CalHob14: No, you really can't.**

I giggled, rocking back and forth a bit in the wheelie desk chair I was sitting in. Angela scrambled back from the door, frightened by my sudden movement. My fingers flew across the keyboard. Once we were in character, we couldn't get out.

 **Grizabella1812: And how is Hobbes doing, Cal?**

 **CalHob14: Miss Grizabella, you should know that with my name as CalHob14, I am both characters at once.**

 **CalHob14: And we are both personally offended.**

 **CalHob14: For that, you should fetch us a tuna fish sandwich. Tigers love those you know.**

I found myself laughing once more, and Cal's childish mirth and humor. I could practically hear the two of us, using false British accents, mocking ourselves and each other, from miles away, through a small box and a screen.

 **Grizabella1812: Why Calvin, how rude! Jellicle Cats love tuna fish as well.**

 **CalHob14: Well, let's make one for each other. Time ourselves. See who can make it faster.**

 **Grizabella1812: Oh, you know I'm not the biggest speed demon in the world.**

 **CalHob14: You know I don't care about that Bella. You know I love you for you.**

The words on the screen made my heart pump faster. I jumped back from the laptop a little bit. My face grew red a little bit, and I dropped the fork I was holding. Breathing heavily, and stood, pacing the room, and though I should be worried, because this random boy in NYC has just told me he loves me, I could take the smile off my face.

 _CalHob14 has left the Chat Room._ Those words made the feeling leave my gut a little bit. I left the Chat Room as well, and looked and Angela.

"You hear that, Angie?" I asked, rubbing her ear with my finger. "He loves me."

Cal made me feel special. He made me forget about the XP. He made me feel appreciative of the world around me for a little while, and of myself, and him. It was like my dream; ' _I was falling, falling in love, falling for a stranger I'd never met, but had known all of my life…'_

 **A/N**

 **I wrote that first chapter surprisingly quickly. So yeah, while I make you wait for chapter two, you guys get to guess who CalHob14 is. And, please,** _ **don't**_ **fall in love with some random person on the internet who doesn't even post pictures of themselves. It's not safe. This is a fanfic, which means** _ **fiction**_ **. Now that I've gotten that PSA out of the way, I hope you all had fun reading that. This fanfic is going to be pretty long, but it's a journey we're all going to go on together. Also, YurMom555 is entirely based on a friend I still hang out with today, because for some reason, she loves saying 'your mom', to me and the rest of the world, so yeah, I like to imagine it's her on the other side of that computer screen. Also, Xeroderma Pigmentosum is a real disease. I found it interesting, so I did what any author does; write about it.**

 **Critique as much as you like, just don't swear or say anything inappropriate. This fanfic is the opposite of gas station bathrooms-clean!**

 **That's it for now, see you next time!**

 **Sayonara (Goodbye)!**

 **-Luna**


	2. She Loves Me, She Loves Me Not

***Note: You Can Skip Over My Rant If You'd Like***

 **So, what gave me the motivation to finish this, you may ask? 'Rise Of The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles', that's what.**

 **Oh. My. God.**

 **I don't mean to offend anyone who liked the first episode, but I couldn't make it to the ten minute mark. I feel like they took what made the 2k12 incarnations** _ **absolutely astonishingly**_ _ **human,**_ **and threw it it into the never ending abyss known as the trash can of amazing cartoons, where things like the original 'Teen Titans', 'Kim Possible', and 'Animaniacs' live. Which is why I wanted to fish it out, and who knows, I may fish 'Animaniacs' out of this trash can later as well.**

 **Honestly, I genuinely hope this is better than than whatever they did to Splinter. I just feel like if you're going to end a good cartoon, and reboot it a year later, do it** _ **right**_ **. Don't do...** _ **that**_ **.**

 **A few things they got right: the theme song. It's** _ **surprisingly**_ **epic, something I can get used to. I love this kind of techno-bop thing they're going for. They brought back 'cowabunga', but God, do I miss 'booyakasha'. I like the animation, very colorful. A few of the gags were funny, but it portrayed them as bad ninjas. Yeah, I know, they're kids, but they're supposed to be able to fight at least a little bit. Especially Leonardo, who will always be our 'leader in blue', and not the 'party dude' of the group.**

 **Thanks for your time, for those of you who share this opinion. I hope you enjoy chapter 2 of 'Carousel Of Love'.**

oOoOoOoOo

 **May 18**

 **Chapter 2**

 **She Loves Me, She Loves Me Not**

 **Michelangelo's POV**

Biting down hard on my jaw, I nervously took a step back from the computer. 'You know I love you for you'.

'Love you for you'.

'Love you'.

"Why did I say that?" I murmured out loud, my breathing ragged and shallow. My heart felt like it was beating out of my chest, and after that, it would shatter right through my shell. Yes, I have a shell. I've been a mutant turtle...basically my entire life.

Me, Leo, Raph, and Donnie, my big brothers, all are. We were mutated when we were infants, turning into red-eared slider and human hybrids. Of course, we couldn't go out in public like that. We would be shunned, and taken in for experimentation. I'm still 83.5% sure the U.S. government is still searching for us. And that's not good.

And I know, the internet is not the safest place, especially for me. Right after my fifteenth birthday, almost an entire year ago, I met Chris Bradford on this website. At the time, I was a total fanboy. But turns out, he worked for the Foot Clan, a rival clan to the Hamatos. So, basically, my brothers have told me ever since that meeting people online is a big no-no.

But Bella's different. She and I both joined the website at the same time, just when I got my fake name: CalHob14. I absolutely love old comics, maybe even more than modern superhero ones. "Peanuts", "Dennis The Menace", "Popeye", but "Calvin And Hobbes" took the top spot. What can I say, I'm a cat person.

And then I met Grizabella1812. She laughed at my jokes, she defended my arguments, she always had my shell. It felt good to have someone who believed in you, and even though you've never met them in real life, you...you love them.

But that's not the best thing to _tell_ them.

I logged off the Chat Room, my heart speeding frantically. Bella hadn't responded. I'd probably scared her away. For all I knew, Bella was some middle-aged man in Kentucky. Not that there's anything wrong with middle-aged men in Kentucky. I'm just...I'm not sure who 'Bella' really is on the other side of the screen.

Trying to calm down my breathing, I took the computer off my lap, and placed it on my pillow. The sound of Leo and Raph fighting in the hallway startled me when I took my earbuds out. Sensei always stopped their fighting, but he was out privately training April and Karai. Karai had requested it for her birthday. She said her only wish was to help protect to family more. My only wish, besides actually meeting Bella, was that my brothers wouldn't fight so much. I saw their silhouettes outside the door, and could imagine the fight; spit flying, punches ready to be thrown, words tossed around like they meant nothing. My heart ached as I watched the two of them fight. It was almost as if I were watching my family split in two before my eyes.

I shoved the earbuds in again, refusing to cry. _I'm not gonna cry again. I'm not gonna cry._ In denial of my tears, I started playing the happiest song I could think of at the moment: 'Swan Lake, Op. 20, Act I: II. Waltz. Tempo di valse' from 'Swan Lake'. Yes, I know, call me old fashioned, but I think it's pretty!

Bella got me into Broadway almost as much as she is. She was always talking about it, until one day, she suggested that we all just look it up. I, apparently, was the only one who did, and I _loved_ it. I started listening to 'Evita' first, which is a musical about the first lady of Argentina, Eva Peron. It's a very inspiring musical, and I absolutely _adore_ the music from it. After that came, 'Fiddler On The Roof', 'Kinky Boots', 'Mary Poppins', 'Rent', and yah know, kinda sorta every other musical. She helped me come a little bit out of my comfort zone. It's not just musicals as well. I find classical music gorgeous now, and the sugary pop songs I used to listen to are much less appealing. Tchaikovsky, especially has helped me, as you see above.

After she introduced me to the world of Broadway, I decided that I was going to try something I'd always wanted to do. Obviously, I couldn't go to the surface in broad daylight, so every once in awhile, spaced out enough so it wouldn't be considered suspicious, I would give April some of my money and ask her to go buy the best art supplies that the money I gave her could buy. And she never disappointed; enormous pads of extremely durable paper, finely tipped colored pencils, and many different colors of watercolor painting sets. April never questioned what I was doing, which was good for her and the others, and even better for me.

Cranking up the music so loud my eardrums hurt with every note the violins played, I picked up a newly sharpened pencil and started adding the waistline to the dress. Personally, I thought it was coming along nicely. The hem of the skirt fell down just below the paper mannequins ankles, stretching down long and shiny. The basque waistline did add a nice touch to the dress. I gave it small feathers on the edge of the skirt, a light detail almost no one would notice. I made tiny little lines to define small gemstones on the chest and the sleeves, sketching the tiny little shimmering stones.

I found myself tapping the eraser of the pencil (which I never used. I prefer to use actual artists erasers. The pencil ones just get their little pink dust everywhere) on the edge of the paper, and humming along to the mixtape of Broadway songs. Music can do something that nothing else, not ninjutsu, not skateboarding, not even drawing can do. Music can help you forget.

Music can release you from reality.

It was hours before I looked at the time, and realized it was pretty late in the evening. Almost nine o'clock p.m. I'd been cooped up in here...basically all day. But Donnie's spent longer in his lab. I don't think anyone would mind.

My music was up so loud I didn't hear the knock on my door until it was cracked open a little bit. Light spilled into my dimly lit bedroom, startling me. I popped out my earbuds and turned off the T-Phone, shoving all of my art supplies under my pillow and praying the drawing didn't get ruined.

Leo stood in the doorway. His dark blue eyes were filled with worry, his tall frame slouched over a little bit. "Hey Mikey." He said quietly. Leo walked in and sat down on my bedside. I looked down, fidgeting a bit with my fingers.

"Hey." I responded, quieter than a whisper.

"How's it going?" He asked, putting an arm around me. I leaned against him for support, feeling the smooth leather of the katana sheath he always wore. I shrugged, raising my shoulders a little bit.

He swallowed, as if he were nervous to talk to me. "You didn't hear any of that fight earlier, did you?" He asked. I shook my head, though Leo knows when I'm lying.

He pushed me upright, and looked me in the eyes, his face full of concern, and care. Leo grabbed my mask tails gently, untied them, and fixed my mask, just like he always did when we were little. Before he left, he gave me a another hug. I threw my arms around him, and wished he would never let go.

"Where's Raphie?"

"He went to the surface to cool off. Just give him some time."

Just as Leo was about to leave, I sniffled a bit. "You and Raph...you're not going to fight like that again, are you?"

Leo hesitated, then shook his head. "Don't worry Mikey, we won't."

"Leo?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't turn the light in the hallway out." I said, feeling a little bit childish.

Leo nodded, and closed my door most of the way.

And he did, indeed, leave the hallway light on.

oOoOoOo

 **May 18**

 **Vanessa's POV**

I can tell you something; Cal knows how to finish a design quickly.

The dress was a champagne color, silk fanning out around a long skirt. Down feathers were bunched up around on the shoulders and around the bottom of the skirt. Midnight black, wine red, and pale blue gems studded the see through sleeves and on the hem of the skirt. They were also on the waistline, though they weren't as spaced out as the others ones. As promised, the waistline was in a basque style.

It had been about eleven hours since Cal had told me he loved me. I'd been keeping track. Which meant about eleven hours since he chose that style. How did he do it so fast? The boy was the Usain Bolt of designing.

I left a comment on Cal's artwork. I wasn't the only one. His designs sure weren't noticed by huge companies, but they were very popular on the website itself. About twenty other people had already liked the drawing, shared it, and made their own personal comments on it, including K0K0CL0CK.

 _ **Grizabella1812 Commented:**_ **Wow, awesome job Cal! Even better than your last one!**

His last one was gorgeous as well. A fanned out, layered skirt, with small snowflake shaped beads at the end, with pale, moonlight colored blue dance flats with little pearls lining where the foot goes in, and a tight bun on top of the head with ropes of pearls and beads stranded together. One of his most gorgeous dresses yet. Cal, the most modest, humblest, and kindness person alive, never takes any credit though, and claims this-and-that gave him all the inspiration, or so-and-so helped him with it.

And for some reason, I can't help but think of a young, cute, teenage boy in his room doing all of this, and not some weird, middle aged man.

Just as I'd posted the comment, a tiny notification popped up. Channel Five New York News. Hey, I live in Maryland, close enough to get their news. We're both New England. That's something. Don't judge me.

(please, readers, this part isn't as insignificant as you think it is)

 _FASHION TOUR BUS CRASHES, KILLS TWO, LEAVES SEVEN INJURED, ONE VICTIM MYSTERIOUSLY MISSING_

 _Project Diamond [Season 6]'s tour took an unfortunate turn, quite literally, as the Tour Bus carrying the teenage girls was T-boned by a moving van._

 _Project Diamond, a television series that showcases a teenage beauty pageant, with twenty girls, all from around America, competing for the infamous Diamond trophy. All twenty girls, including the winner, Elena Deney, and the two runner-ups, Bridget Penning and Kiera Ling. The twenty girls, all ranging between the ages of thirteen and eighteen, have been touring the country each with one parent, managers, one driver, and the show's producer, Haley Abette._

 _On May eighteenth, nearing midnight, everything changed for the young models and their families. A moving van, which ran a red light, T-boned the tour bus, in which the girls were fast asleep in. The driver of the moving van, Kyle Harton, was killed in the crash, along with one parent, Georgia Andrews, who was accompanying Stephanie Andrews, her seventeen-year-old daughter. Several girls, the driver of the tour bus, and another person in the moving van, were injured severely, the most critical of the injuries being that of Rosalie Kenson, a fourteen-year-old girl who made it to the semi-finales._

" _It's truly terrifying," Isabelle Kenson, Rosalie's mother states. "To witness something that horrible happen, and to children as well." Kenson says all she wants is for her baby to come out of this okay._

 _But in all of this, something very strange occured. Bridget Iola Penning, sixteen-year-old superstar, who is best known for rocking the catwalk in her stunning evening gowns, went missing. Co-stars report seeing a shadowy figure amongst the wreckage of the crash. Perhaps rescuing the young girl, but whoever this figure was may have also been abducting the teenage model. Her father, who was on the trip with her, has a reward set for anybody who can find Miss Penning._ _ ***If anybody sees this young lady, please call the New York City police department immediately!***_

The article showed several pictures, one of them being of a young girl, possibly a school picture of her. She had thick, tightly curled blonde hair, running down her shoulders in gorgeously unruly waves. She had wide, hazel-grey eyes, a smile that can light up a city. Two cities. Underneath her photo was a name: Bridget Iola Penning, along with the same message as beforehand.

I shook my head. Honestly, some people. And to think of how many were injured. It's disgusting.

I looked outside. It was dark out, almost nine (no, I did not spend the entire day on the computer). Fully dark out, no last little slivers of sunlight left. Just enough for me to go outside.

I opened up the screen door, entering the garden in our backyard. Mom, after she found out I had XP, set up a whole outdoor garden that I would be able to walk in. She spent so much time and money on something when I was a tiny baby, and though it wasn't much then, she knew I would grow to love it in the future. And it is now something that I absolutely love.

I felt like Dorothy from the 1930's film _The Wizard Of Oz_ (though I do enjoy _The Wiz_ just as much), stepping from her black and white farmhouse into the fantastical land of Oz. A large, marble, tiered fountain sat in the center, water lilies and lotuses floating on the bottom layer, surrounded by bushels of roses, all growing in different colors, white, pink, red, yellow, with pale forget-me-nots daintily circled around their thorny stems. The tall, brick walls that stood as a barrier between the garden and the outside world had ivy vines growing up them, and hydrangea bushes at the bottom, all blue and white. Along the flat, mossy, stone path laid out for me, there were dahlias, irises, magnolias, peonies, all lining the stones, not in any color coded order, as they originally were. I requested we change their placements, so they looked as if they all grew there naturally. Weeping cherry blossom trees grew everywhere, especially around the one bench in my garden, giving it shade, and creating the atmosphere of a shield.

I ducked underneath the branches that neatly touched the ground, and made my way over to the bench, which was ringed with camellias, rose mallows, lilacs, and finally, my favorite types of flowers; simple, tiny, delicate, buttercups.

I plucked one off the ground and twirled it between my fingers thoughtfully. Very few living beings are as harmless as buttercups. Of course, since I plucked this one, I killed it, but still, innocent and harmless.

Yes, very few are as harmless.

I pinched one petal in between my thumb and pointer finger, and pulled it off. I hadn't played this game since I was about seven (it was my favorite movie star), and I don't know what encourage me to do it now, but I still did it.

"He loves me, he loves me not. He loves me, he loves me not. He loves me, he loves me not. He...he loves me." I mused as the last petal fluttered down and hit the ground softly, deaf to my ears and the ears around me.

 **A/N**

 **That was the weirdest ending ever. Alright then, I had to write a freaking fake newspaper article for this chapter.**

 **And yes, I understand what you're going to say: Luna, where were you? Well, where I live, we didn't have any internet for almost a month, and I'd say everybody lost power. Unfortunately, I cannot control the weather, so I have to apologize about that. Also, there are so many other things I needed to work on, so that's also a bummer. Now, I know this chapter wasn't very exciting, and it was only half as long as the first chapter, but it gave some insight onto Mikey's current life, and it introduced a new character into the picture...**

 **Also yes, Nessie lives in Maryland. I like to think close enough to get New York News, but not hardcore Maryland enough to wake up singing 'Good Morning, Baltimore'.**

 **And a little fun fact, May 18 is actually what Baylee thinks Karai's birthday is, so I like after all of this maybe Casey took her on a little date. I dunno.**

 **Critique as much as you like, just don't swear or say anything inappropriate. This fanfic is the opposite of gas station bathrooms-clean!**

 **That's it for now, see you next time!**

 **Sayonara (Goodbye)!**

 **-Luna**


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